Revive
by meglee06
Summary: Destruction, inevitably, will lead to reconstruction, no matter how painful that may be or how long it may take. It is important not to forget, but to remember and rebuild to the best of our abilities, with hope and determination to find the light in the darkness. AU IchiHime. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first true AU story in the Bleach Universe, and I must admit I am rather excited (and slightly nervous) about it. Funny, both of my new Bleach stories are are titled with a single word starting with the letter "r". Oh well.  
**

**I first got this idea on March 11****th**** of this year, the two year anniversary of the Earthquake and Tsunami that struck Japan in 2011. I seemed to have been surrounded by reminders of the event recently, and found myself researching whatever I could find on the disaster, wanting to know more. From people on my Twitter feed mentioning it (since I follow some Japanese rock bands), to a song by One OK Rock called "Be the Light" on their latest CD, **_**Jinsei x Boku=**_** (which, to be fair, does not necessarily have to deal with the Tsunami. It is more of a ballad of revival from difficult situations, though the video does have some footage from the Tsunami, as well as other disasters and war. But when I first heard the song, it is what I thought of, so I still want to give it some credit. Plus, it is just a really powerful song.), and then with me stumbling across and watching a documentary film on HBO called **_**The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossoms (**_**the title, "Revive" actually comes from this. I was just struck by this word in the documentary and wanted to use it), I have just had the disaster on my mind. **

**And then this idea came to me.**

**I want to start out by saying this fic will deal with some really heavy subject matter. This is a work of fiction dealing with a very real natural disaster that affected so many, and I don't want to sugar coat it or represent it as something that is easily overcome. People are still affected, and will probably be haunted by this event for the rest of their lives, and I will not sit here and act like this event is not a touchy subject. This will contain dark ideas and situations dealing with death, and how people try to deal with things like this. That being said, I have bumped the rating up to M to cover my bases. Plus, it is a romance, though I doubt I will dive into lemon territory. Maybe some lemon zest, but nothing graphic. **

**I also want to say that I have not experienced these events, and that these are only a representation of what happened. In no way, shape, or form would I ever be able to capture the emotion of it accurately, because quite frankly I have not lived it, but I hope it comes off as believable in this story. Everything I talk about is what I have learned through my research and through first-hand accounts of the event from survivors. I hope I do not offend anyone by writing this, and if I do, feel free to message me personally and let me know. It is not my intentions, and I want to be able to fix it if I am being offensive.**

**So, the basics:**

**Pairing: Ichigo x Orihime**

**Summary: Destruction, inevitably, will lead to reconstruction, no matter how painful that may be or how long it may take. It is important not to forget, but to remember and rebuild to the best of our abilities, with hope and determination to find the light in the darkness.**

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Angst, dark themes, death, romance**

**Disclaimer: I own only OCs and the plot. Bleach and its rights go to Tite Kubo and whoever he chooses to share them with. The organization mentioned, Architects for Humanity, as a real organization, and I do not own any rights towards it. I have just used the name for this story's purposes. I do not gain profit or intend any disrespect in the writing of this story.**

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 1**

Water is both life and death.

It can replenish, rejuvenate, and reanimate. It can take something fragile and make it strong, take something small and help it grow. It is needed by all living things, and even the majority of our bodies are made up of the stuff.

But it can also choke, overwhelm, and destroy. It can make something decay and rot, burn you when it's too hot, freeze you when it's too cold. It can be contaminated, disorient you or make you fall ill just because it was not taken from the right area. Too much of a good thing, even something that is essential, can lead to devastating consequences.

Imagine what it can do when accompanying something equally as destructive, like an earthquake.

But what we can do, when everything seems lost, is rebuild.

Those where the thoughts that had kept Ichigo up, seated at the kitchen table of his home. Well, his father's home now. It would no longer be his, though he was assure by his family that he was welcome at any time. He was moving into his new apartment tomorrow, starting out early in the morning whether he got sleep tonight or not. It was weird to think like that, to picture this place as anything else but his house. It had been his house for twenty-five years. He had grown up here, but now he was leaving. How many times had he sat at this very table? He couldn't give it an exact number if he tried. It had never seemed significant before, but now…now it seemed much more important.

The house was quiet, a little after two in the morning. The only sound in the kitchen, besides the calm breaths he was producing, was the soft hum of the refrigerator. The room was dimly lit, just the light over the stove on, and he knew that if he traveled the length of the hallway, went upstairs, his sisters would be sound asleep in their beds. He should be in bed. He should be resting in preparation for the big day he had tomorrow.

But instead, he was preparing for an entirely different experience.

The orange-haired man sighed, flipping the pamphlet over in his hands for what could have been the hundredth time. He stared, but didn't see any of the words. Not that he needed to read them again. He'd gone over the words again and again, and even now the words rattled around in his skull, keeping him awake. There wasn't a lot on the ad that had come in the mail, addressed to "Residents of the Household". It wasn't like they had reached out to him specifically, more like just sent them to everyone. There was no way it was intentionally sent _here_, to _him._ And yet he felt it was fate that he would receive such a thing, and it was fate that had placed him in this kitchen, holding this call for help.

"Architecture for Humanity." it said. How appropriate, seeing as he had just graduated with a degree in architecture, but he knew whatever labor he did for this would be construction, something volunteer. It was a non-profit charity organization whose mission was to help those who had been affected in natural disasters. And Japan still needed help after their latest tragedy, the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. The call to action hit Ichigo much harder than most.

After all, he had lived it.

It had been just over two years since that day, and Ichigo could still see it all clearly in his mind. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could feel the building shake beneath him, the plaster of the ceiling falling around him. He could hear the alarms, the screams of terrified people, men, women and children alike. He could see the water moving down the street to the pedestrian bridge he had taken shelter on, the way it crept towards them like a predator stalking its prey. He could feel the familiar ache in his side, a residual pain from broken ribs he had sustained in the earthquake that lingered to this day. Almost subconsciously, he reached up to feel the raised skin above his eyebrow, where he had gotten four stitches to close a wound he had received in the chaos. It was barely visible now, having faded with time and scar cream Yuzu had insisted on, but he could still find it easily with his fingers. Those who did notice it assured him that it only added to his looks, giving him a rugged handsome appearance.

Scars were not that big of a deal to him. He had been a fighter all his life, and his body was riddled with scars. But that one held much more than one he had gained in a school yard struggle.

He still had trigger points, where he would pause in some mundane activity and be lost in the memories that only time and extensive therapy had healed. Small things, like the wrong tone on an alarm clock, or the scratch of branches against a window during a storm, both sounding much to close to the sounds he had heard that day. It had been bad for a while, to the point where he remained in his room for the majority of his time, leaving only for his studies and for necessities. But he had come a long way from that. He wasn't that weak anymore.

And now he wanted to go back to where his life had been turned upside down. If you asked him why, he wasn't sure he could give a logical reason. It was more instinctual, something tugging his insides and telling him that here was an opportunity to make a change, to matter. He wasn't the same kid that had cowered at the thought of a thunderstorm – though he still didn't particularly like them, seeing as how storms had always been unsettling to him, even before the disaster – or the one who couldn't even think about oceans without falling into shock. He no longer avoided anything with the possibility of shaking or rocking, and he could walk into a multiple storied building without breaking down. No, he was much stronger than that person, and the overwhelming desire to return to this place was consuming his every thought.

"Ichigo?"

The gruff, sleep-filled voice of his father had the orangette sitting up in his chair. Brown eyes watched as Isshin Kurosaki moved across the tiled floor, bare-foot and disheveled from obvious slumber. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as Ichigo inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Hey Dad."

"What are you doing up so late, son?" the man asked, grabbing a clean glass from the sink and filling in with water before sitting across from his first-born child. Ichigo smiled, though his exhaustion clouded the action, leaving it blander than usual.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'd say it was my instincts," Isshin started with a chuckle. "But that would be a lie. I was thirsty." He sipped his drink as if to emphasize the point, before casually adding. "You didn't answer the question."

"Can't sleep. Too many thoughts," Ichigo responded, letting the silence of the house settle once more over him.

The older man grunted a sound of agreement, sipping the cool water from his glass once more before setting it down. "Not backing out of moving, I hope," he teased, a rumble of laughter escaping him. Ichigo knew the man well enough to know he was filled with nostalgia at the idea, picturing Ichigo as a child. He joined his father in the laughter, shaking his head.

"You wish, old man."

"Can't blame a man for trying to hold onto his children," his father responded good-naturedly. Isshin leaned back in his chair, eyes falling to the pamphlet still clutched in his son's hands. He'd recognize the pamphlet, Ichigo knew. It was not the first time he had seen it. Ichigo had the feeling that if it had been his father who discovered it in the mail, he would have never seen the ad. It would have been tossed with the rest of the junk mail their house received. It was luck that he had been home early that day to collect the mail first. Another reason he felt it was meant to reach him.

Almost immediately a sigh escaped Isshin's lips. "I thought we discussed this already," he said with a gesture to the pamphlet. Though his tone was more casual, Ichigo could still hear the sharpness underneath, showing that the light-hearted teasing was over for the moment.

"We did," the younger man confirmed, eyes rising to meet his father's. "But that does not mean I've changed my feelings about it."

"What will get you to change your feelings?" Isshin countered, shaking his head. "Or are you intentionally trying to ruin all the hard work you've accomplished in recovery?"

"You know this goes further than my own health," Ichigo started. "I'm not going to relapse. I'm going to help others who are like me, who survived."

"Son, please do not misunderstand my stand on this. I think your desire to help is admirable," Isshin started, pausing to take a swig of water. It was a way to distract himself from his frustration, though it seemed to only serve as a delay in the conversation, "but right now is a crucial time in your life. You're fresh out of college, ready to start your career, and I don't want to see you get sucked down by your past."

"I'm not getting sucked down," Ichigo insisted, knowing he was getting defensive. He had to remain calm. Otherwise, he'd look even more like a child. If he wanted to prove he could handle it, a two-year old with a temper tantrum was not the image he needed to portray. "This is an opportunity for me."

"To do what?" Isshin countered. "What are you trying to prove by torturing yourself?"

"How am I supposed to learn and grow if I don't create experiences?" Ichigo asked, voicing the question as if it were a new thought though he knew it wasn't. He and his father had had this conversation already, but Ichigo couldn't let it lie. "Dad, I feel like this is a sign."

"They send these things to everyone, Ichi. They had no way of knowing your past with this."

"But I still feel fate has a hand in this," Ichigo said with a raise of his hand, holding the pamphlet up at eye level. "This was meant to reach me." He flipped through the flimsy paper, locating the section headlined "Work Sites". "They even have site at Sendai. It's not like I would be going in without blind. I even know the area well."

"That is not funny, son," Isshin said in a low tone, his frown deepening.

"It wasn't a joke."

"And what happens if you relapse?" Isshin asked, leaning forward on his elbows to give a hard stare at his son.

"I won't," was the quick response form Ichigo. Too quick, but he hoped it was confident enough.

"Do you remember what it was like when you got back home?" the dark-haired man stated calmly, though Ichigo could feel the emotional war going on inside of his father. "How long did it take you to stop having nightmares? You remember those, right? The ones that had your sisters unable to look at you for weeks at a time, afraid they'd set off another round of tortured screams."

"You don't have to remind me –" Ichigo began, only to be cut off.

"How long did you have to suffer with survivor's guilt? How long did it take you to realize that what happened was a tragedy, and you couldn't blame yourself for _living_?" Ichigo looked away at that, knowing his answer would not be favorable. _Too long_ was the correct response, but Ichigo was certain that this time would be different.

Noticing the orangette's reaction, Isshin sighed. "It's not that I think you are weak. I've never thought that. What you went through…" A frustrated huff of air left him, his hand dragging through his dark hair. "A father can't protect his children from everything, no matter how hard they try. Though I couldn't have predicted the event, I can keep you from reliving it now. I just don't want you to fall back into that, Ichigo. It nearly destroyed you last time. Our family can't go through that again."

"This time will be different," Ichigo insisted, shaking his head. "I will be rebuilding, helping those who lost so much that day. I can help bring them hope. How can that be wrong?"

Ichigo watched as his father smirked, his eyes focused on the glass held between his hands. He almost berated the man for mocking him at a time like this, but when Isshin looked up the words died in his throat. His father didn't look like he wanted to mock him. Instead, he looked…proud.

"You know," Isshin started, still smiling in that lopsided way of his. "You sounded like your mother just then. She would have had the same argument in this situation, and she would have undoubtedly picked your side in this, no matter how much I protest."

Ichigo remained silent, unsure of what to say. For a moment, the silence of the house returned. It struck Ichigo that this may very well be the last time he ever had a late-night kitchen conversation with his father, and the thought brought sadness to Ichigo's heart. He would miss this, he knew. He would miss waking up to Yuzu's cooking. He would miss helping Karin with her soccer skills. He would miss these rare moments of serious conversation with his father. It seemed like only yesterday he was a kid with his whole future in front of him.

But time passed whether you wanted it to or not, and Ichigo's future was _now_. He wanted to make sure he had no "what-ifs". At the end of his life, he wanted to look back and know he did something worthwhile, something that changed a life or two.

"How long would you stay?" Isshin asked, tearing Ichigo away from his thoughts. The orangette's heart sped up at the question as he tried to form an answer.

"A year at most," he responded, smiling a little before adding. "It is non-profit after all. Whatever time I give is volunteered. I have enough money saved to keep the lease on the apartment for that much time, and then I plan on returning to start my career. I've been sending out applications, testing the waters and seeing if I get a bite somewhere."

"Oh, you'll get a bite," Isshin said, pride filling his voice. "I'd bet my life on it, considering your rank in graduation."

"You think?" Ichigo asked, allowing hope to come into his voice.

"It's not only compassion that you got from your mother," Isshin said with a smile, "but her iron will as well. You'll be just fine, knowing your determination." He paused, turning his head to the side in thought before speaking again. "Got your good looks from me, though."

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the comment, but couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of his chest. But just as the conversation turned light, it returned to the serious side. "Are you sure this is what you want?" Isshin questioned, watching his son carefully. "I want you to give me a straight answer. If this is from some wild idea in your head that you are somehow held responsible for what happened to these people, then I won't let you go. I will tie you to the house if I have to, and you know that is no empty threat. I want you to be absolutely sure that you can handle it."

Ichigo appreciated the concern, knowing his father was only looking out for him, but this was bigger than fear. This was something he felt like he needed to do.

"I'm sure."

"Then I can't stop you, can I?" Isshin said, shaking his head. "You're twenty-five years old. I can hardly tell you what to do. We'll look into it tomorrow. But right now, while you are still under my house and within my jurisdiction, I am ordering you to go to bed and get some sleep." He stood with a tired smile, waiting until Ichigo stood before reaching out and gripping his son's shoulder. The simple gesture stopped Ichigo, and he watched his dad with curiosity.

"Even if I'm worried, I know what you are doing is a great thing. You've grown up into a great man, Ichigo, and I am so proud of you. Don't forget that." The words were spoken softly, but Ichigo could hear the sincerity.

"Thanks Dad," Ichigo said, smiling widely at his father. "But I get that from you, too."

Isshin grinned at the words, shaking his head. With a pat on the shoulder, he released his son and started down the hall towards his bedroom. "Oh, and Ichigo?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't think just because you've been up all night you'll be getting out of your wake up call. You may be a college grad, and I may be getting old, but I am still the master of the sneak attack." Ichigo could hear the smile in his voice, and he gave a bark of laughter.

"We'll see about that," he called after him, turning to head up the stairs to his own room. With every step, Ichigo could feel the excitement building in his gut. With a soft groan, he realized he still probably wouldn't get any sleep tonight, but even if he was dead tired tomorrow he knew he would still feel on top of the world.

He was going to make a difference, just as he had set out to do.

X

Orihime circled the pen over the top of the page once more, willing the words to pour out of the tip of the writing utensil. She had been sitting in the same position in front of her small desk for the last two hours, rereading the application over and over and finding it nearly impossible to fill in the required information.

She sighed as she drug a delicate hand through her hair, the orange strands falling into her eyes despite to attempts to secure them with hair pins. This was the tenth night in a row where she had sat in her apartment and been unable to write what was required.

What was so hard about this? It was only a few questions. Basic government information about herself, and then a small essay attached. She had already bought the necessary postage to send it to the admissions office, and all she had to do was complete the application to send it on its way. But every time she started, something held her back.

Tatsuki would tease her for this. Orihime could hear the other girl now. "_Just go for it! What do you have to lose?_" But it was never that simple, was it?

It seemed each night presented another obstacle. Her favorite television show was on. It was time for her weekly dinner with Tatsuki. She was late making her nightly cup of tea. All of these things, those simple, were much more important than they seemed.

It was a routine. Something constant, never changing. Constant was where she was safe. Routines were where she found peace.

These applications, though she wanted to send them very badly, fell into the different, the unknown. It was not safe.

Fifteen minutes. She was late for her tea by fifteen minutes tonight, and she couldn't stop her hands from shaking at the thought of missing it. It shouldn't be a big deal. She should be much stronger than this after two years, but she knew that without a set plan, without the small amount of control that she had taken over her life, she would fall back into what she that day had made her.

It was the reason she never left Sendai. The reason she kept her job at the Mediatheque, even though it had been meant as a job she would leave within a year. It had been meant as a bridge that gapped the time between her graduation from the Kanazawa College of Art and entering a graduate program for Art History, and her professors had been most kind to send her information to the Mediatheque, particularly to the gallery section of the library. They would probably frown upon her hesitation now. She had all of those applications, but she couldn't even finish the first one. Even with everything here that was a constant reminder of what had happened on March 11, 2011, she couldn't bring herself to leave. After all, leaving was never a part of the constant schedule she had given herself.

She shut her eyes tightly, blocking the thoughts she knew would storm her mind if she allowed them. _Careful_, she told herself, _don't send yourself into an attack._

She glanced at the clock. It was now twenty minutes past her tea time ritual. Longingly, she looked towards her small kitchen. She could see the bright blue teapot sitting on the counter, tea bags already out and waiting to be used. It called to her like a warm, childhood blanket, familiar and secure.

With one final glance at the blank paper, she stood up from the small desk chair. Later. She would finish it later.

Right now she would make her tea, and then go to bed. She needed to be up early tomorrow, just like always, and start her day all over again.

**This first chapter is a little bit shorter than my usual length, but I felt it was a good place to end. I wanted to make sure I set the foundation before jumping into everything. It should start picking up in the next chapter or so. **

**Once again, I would greatly appreciate feedback, though please no flames. You can tell me how to make it better, sure, but please do not just destroy my writing. I do try very hard.**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	2. Chapter 2

**The next chapter is here! This is where the flashbacks begin.**

**Thank you all for the feedback, and for adding this to your alerts/favorites. It means a lot, and I hope this story continues to please. So again, thank you :)**

**I attempted to stay true to the semester system of Japan when it concerns Universities and Colleges, but seeing as it is different from mine, I may have botched it. My apologies if there are any mistakes. **

**Disclaimer: I own only OCs and the plot.**

**Chapter 2**

_March 11, 2011_

_Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan_

_5:12 pm _

Ichigo rubbed his temple once more as he listened to the ranting of his father on the other line, weaving through the other pedestrians walking along the sidewalk he currently navigated. You would think it was his first time being away from home with the way his old man talked. Every conversation was twenty-questions. Did he do this? Did he do that? Though technically it was the farthest he has gone, he had been in college for five years now, finishing his undergraduate degree and now pursuing a degree in architecture at the University of Tokyo. He had just completed his first year in grad school, and he was taking a much needed break to travel a little bit. He was experienced in taking care of himself, not that Isshin really understood that. The way he talked to him or about him, you'd think Ichigo was around the age of ten, not twenty-three.

"_You've checked into the hotel?_" Isshin asked, probably the tenth time that question had left his lips. It was all Ichigo could do not to answer with a smart-ass response.

"Yes." That had been a lot easier than he had thought it would be. It wasn't the nicest hotel, but he didn't plan on spending all of his time there, so it didn't matter. The shower had hot water and the bed as comfortable enough, so he would be fine.

"_They didn't give you any trouble?_"

"No, it went fine. Piece of cake," Ichigo assured him.

"_And you made sure you had everything from the airport?_"

"I wouldn't have left if I didn't have all of my stuff," Ichigo muttered with an eye roll. What a stupid question. Honestly, it was as if his dad thought he was still in high school or something.

"_You'd be surprised how easy it can be for luggage to be misplaced,_" Isshin countered, which earned a muttered agreement from Ichigo.

"Even so, I've got everything."

"_Are you sure you don't need to rent a car? You'll be there for a week._" Isshin's voice changed in an instant, and Ichigo groaned at what he knew was to come. "_Oh Masaki! Our baby boy has grown!_" He could imagine his father now, plastered against the memorial poster of his late mother. He didn't know why his dad seemed to insist on acting like a child in certain situations, but he had grown use to it. The best way to counter it was always with violence, but since he was nowhere near the man he would have to rely on threats.

"I will hang up on you if you don't shut up," Ichigo warned, sidestepping a couple as he walked down the street. "And no, I don't need a car. I prefer to walk." It saved time and money, and he had long been used to walking everywhere from his days in school. He admitted he didn't know the streets here well enough to navigate without a map, but he was a quick learner. He would pick up the layout in no time at all.

He had just landed in Sendai two hours ago and was already out exploring. He only had a week, and he wasn't going to waste it away in a small hotel room watching mindless television. It was never in his nature to sit still, always moving and discovering new places and things. Already he had seen quite a bit of the city, but he was still looking for one certain spot that had been a key reason for him picking this particular city to visit.

"_You're so mean to your papa,_" Isshin protested, before chuckling. "_But fine. Just call me sometime and check in, will ya? Man or not, you're still a long way from home._"

"I will," Ichigo promised, smiling a little at the words. He knew that his dad just worried. Though it could be annoying, he did appreciate the support system he had at home, even if it could be overbearing at times. He would make sure to call so Isshin didn't have to fret about his eldest son. Otherwise, he knew Isshin would hunt him down to make sure he was still alive. "But I'm about to get to the Mediatheque, so I have to go. Tell Yuzu and Karin I said hello."

"_I will be sure to tell them. Bye Son_."

"Bye Dad." The phone call ended, and Ichigo tucked the devise into his jean pocket, coming to a stop in front of his destination. He whistled lowly as he looked up at the building in front of him, not really caring if he was blocking the sidewalk or not. He imagined it was a tourist thing to do, walking around with your face turned upwards to look at the buildings, but if his admiration of the building was a bother, those people would have to get over it. He received a few glares, but they went unnoticed.

The Sendai Mediatheque was a structure worthy of recognition. Toyo Ito, the man who had designed the library/art center, was a genius and as an architecture student, Ichigo had nearly jumped at the chance to go and visit the building.

The sun shone off of the glass walls that rose into the sky, and he could see the famous tubes as he looked through the windows, the spiraling design standing out even from outside. But it wasn't just the design that was intriguing. The building had everything from a library to an art gallery to a theatre to a café and bookstore, making it a popular tourist spot. Ichigo had only ever seen it in pictures, magazines and articles that his professors had shown or assigned for assignments. Looking at it now, those pictures didn't do the building justice. It was a work of art, and Ichigo was excited to go in and take a look around, wanting to commit every inch of the building to his memory.

Even with the tiresome flight, Ichigo had not been able to wait any longer to see the building. He knew it would not be the last time he visited the building during his trip, as it was too much ground to cover in one afternoon, but even as he set out on foot it seemed he was drawn to the building. He could spare a few hours today to explore the building, vowing to see the other tourist spots later in the week.

With a smile, he set off towards the entrance.

X

_5:30 pm_

"Orihime…Orihime, snap out of it!"

The buxom girl awoke from the daze she had been in, blinking furiously in an attempt to make her eyes focus. She looked up from her desk, seeing her friend Tatsuki, clad in black slacks and a white blouse, standing by her side. The girl raised an eyebrow at her friend, cocking her hip to the side. Orihime's face broke into a wide smile at the sight of her friend.

"Oh, hello Tatsuki."

"You were pretty zoned out there," the dark-haired girl commented, sitting on the corner of the desk and peering at the computer screen in front of the orange-haired girl. She sneered at the excel spreadsheet displayed, her nose scrunching in disgust. "Not that I can blame you. This looks miserable."

Orihime chuckled, looking back towards the computer. "It really is not as complicated as it seems." The lists of people, dates, item numbers, and monetary values were neatly organized in the spreadsheet, rows and columns of information all there in black and white.

"What are you even doing?" she asked, glancing to where Orihime had a box of folders set by the foot of her desk.

"It is my latest assignment as an intern. I'm sorting through the records of the art gallery to make a single list of all of the donors, artists, and buyers." To emphasize the point, Orihime tapped the cardboard box with her foot. "This is the old system, and they wanted me to convert it to a computer file to make it easier to sort through."

Tatsuki's sneer only grew as Orihime explained her work. "Yuck."

"It really isn't that bad," the cheerful girl insisted, adjusting her hair pin. "I've made a game out of it."

"I'm almost scared to ask what that game is," Tatsuki laughed, standing back up to give the girl some room to stand. She knew Orihime had a wild imagination, which probably is what had her losing focus in the first place. She had long ago stopped trying to ask the girl to explain her thoughts, but had just accepted them as they are. It was better that way. Fewer headaches.

"It passes the time," Orihime commented with a smile. "Really, I've just split the different categories into different teams and given a point for each addition to the spreadsheet."

"Who's in the lead?" Tatsuki asked, humoring the girl.

Orihime picked up the yellow note pad situated by her side, finger tracing the tally marks scratched underneath designated teams as she added the numbers in her head. "The Artistic Aggression," she said with a laugh, "So the artists at the moment. Though The Devilish Donations and The Bruising Buyers are not that far behind. It may be a close game yet."

Tatsuki shook her head with a snort, rolling her eyes at the assigned names. "And I thought my job was bad with organizing the new books in alphabetical order. Anyways, are you still planning on coming to eat tonight?"

"Yes, of course," Orihime confirmed with a nod.

"Well it is after five thirty," Tatsuki pointed out, causing Orihime to blink in surprise.

"Oh, I must have gotten sidetracked," Orihime commented, sparing a glance at the clock. She had zoned out longer than she thought. Though the Mediatheque gallery remained open until eight at night, she was only required to stay from the gallery opening at ten in the morning until five in the afternoon. Though the building was popular, there was only so much an intern could do with limited training and experience. Really, the internship was mostly desk work, stuff no one else particularly wanted to do, but she was happy for the opportunity. Her professors had really done her a huge favor in getting this internship for her, fresh out of her undergraduate years and applying to graduate school in art history in the coming year. This internship would give her some experience and hopefully set her out above the other applicants, and she didn't want to let her professors down.

Tatsuki was one of the other interns, though she worked in the library section. She had met her on her first day, and they had become fast friends. The dark-haired girl was from the area, and she took it upon herself to show Orihime around, help her get a handle on Sendai. Seeing as it was Friday, she would have dinner at Tatsuki's house, a growing tradition for the two of them.

As she grabbed her purse, she caught sight of a stack of folders left forgotten on the file cabinet. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she reached for the documents. "Go on ahead Tatsuki and I'll catch up. I have to deliver these folders to the office before I can leave." She was supposed to have delivered them on her lunch break, but she had gotten distracted. Again.

Tatsuki nodded in understanding as she moved to the door. "I'll see you at my place then. Don't let that woman push you around, got it?" the girl commented, giving her a pointed look.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Sure you don't," the dark-haired girl muttered with a shake of her head. "Say the word and I'll take care of it."

"I will see you later, Tatsuki," Orihime said with a laugh, shooing the girl out of the office with a wave of her hand. Her friend complied with a grin, ducking out and heading towards the exit.

Orihime collected her stuff, fumbling with her purse as she pulled her grey jacket on. She spared the desk one last look before heading out. It wouldn't take long to run these to the office, and thankfully the elevators were situated next to them, but she knew Tatsuki's worry of her being pushed around was a real concern. She could almost feel the impending lecture about promptness that the lady at the desk would give her. She was an older lady, one who didn't seem to have any desire to cut the young intern any slack, and she didn't like Orihime at all. She had tried to be nice when she first arrived, asking the woman to go with her to lunch and trying to engage in polite small talk to no avail. This woman, whom Orihime didn't even know the name of since she wore no name tag and hadn't bothered introducing herself, was a terror on high heels.

She quickened her pace, wanting to get this over with. The sooner she turned these in, the sooner she could go eat and forget about this woman.

Unfortunately for her, turning those files in would prove harder than she thought. As she neared the offices, the lady in question was already waiting, leaning against the elevator in her black dress-suit. She knew what time Orihime would leave, probably made a point to write it on one of the thousands of sticky notes that hung around her cubicle, and it seemed she anticipated her departure as it meant she could rip into her once more. With a sigh, Orihime forced herself to smile. Surely she couldn't yell at a cheerful person.

"Hello," she greeted as politely as she could.

"There you are Orihime. Where have you been?" the woman asked, her voice dropping to a deeper tone in her annoyance. "I've been waiting for those folders all day."

She did her best to smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as she chuckled nervously. She was always nervous around this woman. She doubted she would ever truly get used to her. There was just something that made her intimidating. Perhaps the never-ending frown.

"I'm sorry. I was sidetracked with organizing the records, and turning these in just slipped my mind. I apologize for the delay."

"Well hurry up and bring them here," the woman snapped, holding out a manicured hand for the documents as if it was the most boring thing she had ever done. Even in body language, the girl could feel this woman's condescending attitude.

Orihime walked faster, wanting to obey the woman's wishes and get out of there. In her haste, her flat dress shoe slipped on the tiled floor, and she stumbled. She was clumsy, always had been, but she felt her face heat up at showing this side of her in front of this woman who seemed to always look for a reason to call Orihime worthless.

What made matters worse was that the slip served to dislodge the folders from her arms, and the papers spilled onto the floor like water, sliding out in every direction. Orihime gasped, a hand flying up to cover her face in embarrassment as she crouched down, immediately starting to pick up the papers as quickly as she could.

"I am so sorry," she said hurriedly, reaching for page after page and cursing her luck as the other woman began to rant.

So much for getting out of there quickly.

X

_5:38 pm _

Ichigo had intended to start with the library, but had somehow found himself looking in the art gallery. It's not that he was against going to the art gallery first. He was an architecture student, after all. Art was a very close friend of architects. She had to have basic skills to sketch and design buildings the way he wanted to, so it wasn't that he found the gallery boring. It was more like he was tugged there. He had seen the sign, and on impulse came to this floor. He didn't question his feet, allowing them to carry him through the space as they pleased, and he was not disappointed with the art he saw.

There were not many people here, though he guessed it was common for a Friday afternoon. He figured more people would come on a Saturday or Sunday instead of coming to the building after a day of working. Either way, he was happy for the lack of the crowd. This way he could take his time.

He moved through the gallery space slowly, his light zip up jacket draped over one arm as he moved this way and that, pausing to take in the different pieces that caught his interest. He didn't know many of the artists that were listed on the small tags next to the art, but that didn't matter. There were all types of styles, from the traditional to the contemporary. Personally, he gravitated towards the more intricate and precise pieces, ones that looked thoroughly planned out and with clean, sharp lines, but he also enjoyed the vibrant abstract ones and the softer, more trained hand of traditional portraits. He wasn't too picky when it came to art, able to appreciate it all.

Eventually he was broken from his thoughts with a growl from his stomach, a loud protest at the lack of food he had eaten today. He had a quick lunch once he had left the airport, but it was less than he was used to eating, and it seemed his stomach had taken notice of this.

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was nearly twenty 'til six, meaning he had only been here for around thirty minutes. It was less than he meant to spend, but as his stomach roared once again, gathering the attention of the handful of other people looking through the otherwise quiet gallery, he decided it was time to leave. He could grab some food on the way back to the hotel.

He could always come back tomorrow, though he dreaded the thought of dealing with all of those people. Ichigo was not a fan of crowds. He had friends back home and in school, but large groups of people was just not his cup of tea, especially when he would be trying to take his time in exploring the building. Nevertheless, it couldn't be helped, and he would put up with it. He lamented not being able to stay, but he knew he would be back soon to continue his exploration.

As he headed towards the elevator, pulling his jacket on while he walked, something caught his attention. Or rather, a color caught his attention. Orange. A girl somewhere around his age stood by the main office area. The girl's hair was a bright orange, nearly the same color as his, and he absent-mindedly reached up to tough his own hair. Strange. He had never seen another person with his color of hair. He had always gotten picked on it throughout school, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other students, bullied and looked down upon for something he had no control over, so running into another with the unique color was a surprise.

Though she wasn't looking at him, he could read from her body language that she was not comfortable. Then again, she was kneeling on the tile floor. Her shoulders were hunched forward, bent down to pick up a sea papers that littered the ground around her. She fumbled with the pages, obviously nervous, and Ichigo's eyes went to the only other person in the area. The lady stood next to her, much older than her coworker on the floor. She looked down her nose and past a pair of glasses perched there, a frown marring her features as she spoke in a harsh tone. She tapped her foot impatiently as the younger of the two hurriedly tried to sort the papers out and stuff them into different folders.

He could only imagine that the girl was being criticized for dropping the folders. It must be very important paperwork for her to be talked to like that. He couldn't hear the words said from where he was currently standing, but he could hear the tone well enough to recognize it as one of disapproval.

It was none of his business. He was a bystander, a tourist at that, and he had no reason to pay any attention. The elevators were just beyond the pair, and he intended to keep walking towards his destination, but he found that the voice of the older woman stopped him. Neither seemed to notice the man as he neared, and Ichigo did nothing to alert them to his presence for the time being. He wanted to see why the older one was sneering so openly at the other girl.

"Can you not do anything right?" the woman complained, shaking her head condescendingly. "It's like you don't have a single thought in your head."

The younger girl remained quiet, but Ichigo caught the way she flinched at the words. He couldn't stop his mouth from turning downwards, his face contorted with a small frown. Those were harsh words for someone frantically trying to pick those papers up. If the other woman noticed her discomfort, she didn't care, as she continued the verbal assault as she examined her nails.

"I told the head of the department that we had no need for an intern, especially one that is as incompetent as you. These documents were supposed to be here at noon, and all you can say is that you forgot?"

"I'm sorry," the younger girl said softly, and Ichigo could hear the way her voice faulted. It was obviously not the first time she had said those words today, and Ichigo figured it would be said a few more times before the older woman was done with her.

"Don't start," the woman snapped, shaking her head. "You could have avoided this situation if you paid more attention."

"I'm sorry," the girl repeated, hiding further behind the hair that had fallen into her face. Ichigo felt a tug on his heart at the sight. She was obviously remorseful, and though that didn't necessarily excuse her mistake, it certainly didn't earn her the right to be raked over the coals by this other lady who wouldn't even help her pick the documents up.

"I swear every year the interns get worse and worse." About the time those words left her lips, he had decided he had heard enough. The words were not constructive. They were mean and insulting, and he could feel all of the hurt he had felt over the years at getting bullied for no good reason surge forward once more. He was not one to stand by when a person needed help.

He cleared his throat as he stepped forward, watching as both of the women looked towards him. The girl's eyes widened noticeably as she caught sight of him. As he approached, she went back to her collecting, her pace increasing at the idea of another person witnessing her mistake. The woman standing beside her seemed much less impressed, if the narrowed glance at his hair was any indication.

"Can I help you sir?" Somehow, he doubted she really cared what he wanted. He knew what she was thinking. He had been considered a delinquent on many occasions, given the color of his hair, and he could practically feel this lady judging him. Her arms crossed over her chest defensively at the intrusion, her lips pressing into a thin line of displeasure.

"No, I was just offering my assistance," he spoke firmly, knowing that he had interrupted a rather delicate situation. The girl collecting papers on the floor had averted her gaze, though the blush had been clear enough even as she shrunk into herself. She was probably embarrassed, and who wouldn't be in her position? She was practically being scolded in front of the whole floor, and the other woman did nothing but make it worse standing there, ranting away.

"You don't need to trouble yourself," the older woman protested sharply, shaking her head.

"It's no trouble at all," he countered, giving the woman a smile that could be considered polite by those who did not know him. For those who did know him, they knew it was a sarcastic expression, but what this lady didn't know would hurt her.

"Surely she is competent enough to pick up the papers she dropped," the woman continued. The girl in question ducked her head even further at the insult, and Ichigo felt his frown deepen at the sight. The fact that this woman showed her lack of respect for the younger girl, while speaking to a visitor at that, bothered him more than it should have.

"Look, lady, I'm just trying to help her out. It's called manners. I won't just stand here watching her struggle with them," he said with a pointed look in the older woman's direction, making it clear that he was referring to what she had been doing when he walked by. The older lady seemed taken aback by the words, probably not used to someone standing up to her, but Ichigo ignored her as he squatted down next the other. His hand reached out to start gathering the papers in front of him.

"Sir," the woman began, but he cut her off with a hard stare.

"I think we can handle it from here," he stated calmly but without an opening for her to argue, glancing at the girl who still refused to look up.

With a sigh, the woman gave up. "Be sure to put them in my folder when you've got them sorted," she muttered, pointing to the plastic containers on the wall as she spoke to the girl before turning on her heel and walking away.

A moment passed where neither Ichigo nor the girl spoke, simply gathering the papers that had been dropped. Ichigo didn't know where each page went, but he still felt the need to help. If he had kept walking, who knows how far the lady would have gone. As the pile on the floor lessened, the girl finally spoke.

"Thank you," she said softly, looking up very briefly to meet his gaze before looking back down. "But you didn't have to do that," she added as an afterthought.

"It's no problem. It looked like you needed some help," Ichigo responded, looking in the direction the other woman had gone. He had to admit, it was a little easier to breathe without her around. "And it didn't look like that other woman was going to pitch in any time soon."

"She's probably just stressed out," the girl mused, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her ear. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers, as she had done it a few times already in the time Ichigo had been here.

"She was being rude," he mumbled.

"That's how she always is."

"Well, you shouldn't let her talk to her like that." It irritated him how the woman had been bullying the younger girl. Even if she had been late with turning in those folders, she could have handled it better. "No one deserves that dragon lady breathing down their neck."

The girl laughed lightly at that, and Ichigo found he rather enjoyed the sound. It suited her more than the timid voice she had used with the woman. He handed the stack of paper he had collected over to her, and she looked up as she took it, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were bright, and she smiled kindly at him as she took the offered papers.

They both stood, Ichigo tucking his hands in his pockets as the girl sorted the different papers into their appropriate folders. His eyes couldn't help but trace her features. Soft, feminine planes of the face that still held onto a more youthful appearance met his gaze, though she was certainly not a child. Her hair hung down to the middle of her back, bangs brushed aside and held by flower hair pins, matching the color of her knee-length skirt. The white collar of her button up blouse peeked from underneath a grey cardigan. Being the hormonal young man he was, he couldn't help but notice her figure and curves, but his father had raised him to be a gentleman and he quickly averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn't catch the small blush that had spread across his cheeks at the thought of her catching where his eyes had looked. She was beautiful, seemed to be a genuinely kind girl, and Ichigo found that he wanted to know more about her.

The woman had called her an intern, and he felt the need to question her about what she did in the building he admired so much. Perhaps she was a student from around here and could show him the city. Or maybe she could at least give him a proper tour of the building. It would be a great help to have someone who knew what was going on around here helping him navigate. Maybe not today, since he was leaving as it was, but possibly within the coming week.

When she had it all sorted, she placed them in the container on the wall that the woman had indicated and sighed in relief, happy that it was finally turned in. She turned back, smoothing the folds in her skirt where the material had wrinkled from picking up the papers. "Thank you, again…" She trailed off, her nose scrunching as she frowned. Ichigo caught the hesitation, realizing he had never supplied his name.

He immediately stuck out his hand, a sheepish smile gracing his features. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Ichigo," she repeated, a smile touching her lips once more. "I'm Orihime Inoue."

"It's nice to meet you Orihime," Ichigo said, testing out her name on his tongue. "Are you on your way out?" he asked, nodding towards the elevators. She looked to where he had indicated, tugging her jacket closer as she adjusted her purse.

"Um, yes, I am. But I don't need to bother you any further," she started, a hand coming up to wave off the offer, but after seeing how the other woman had pushed her around, Ichigo was hesitant to not accompany her. "I can see myself out."

"I don't mind," he insisted with a shrug. "Besides, if you walk alone, who will fight the dragons?" he added, smiling when the girl laughed once more. He could get used to that sound.

"I suppose you are the only dragon-slayer in the building," she mused playfully, her face lighting up with the smile she gave him.

"Then it's settled," Ichigo insisted, gesturing towards the elevator. "I am heading out as well, so I can walk with you."

"Alright. Thank you," she said, giving into Ichigo's offer and turning towards the elevator. He fell in step with her, stopping at the metal doors and pressing the button to call the elevator car up to their floor.

_5:46 pm _

They were waiting for the elevator to reach them, Ichigo's mind looking for a way to open a new conversation with the girl who stood beside him, when the first tremor struck Sendai.

**The next chapter will start the events of the Earthquake and Tsunami.**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	3. Chapter 3

**An update! **

**Settle in with something to snack on, folks. This one is LONG. Just couldn't bear stopping it at one part, and I really wanted this chapter to be the last flashback, so…there you go. Long updates, ahoy! **

**So sorry for the wait, my friends. Even in the summer, I am busy. Then again, I guess I better get used to it. When I graduate next year, summer will no longer be a break, but a time to find a job in the "real world" (DUN DUN DUN). **

**Plus, writing this one was like pulling teeth for some reason. I went back and forth on a lot of stuff, and finally just confided in fellow writer and friend, xfang-girlx, (who writes some Bleach and Death Note stories, for those interested :) my shameless plug for her haha) to get everything sorted out, so kudos to her for this one! Thank you! :D **

**And thank you to everyone who has shown any interest in this story! I know the updates are slow, but it's because I'm trying to give you the best story I can. Hang in there with me, please. And thank you for follows/favorites/reviews! **

**And on another side note that does not have anything to do with the upcoming chapter of this story, if you are not caught up on the Bleach manga releases, you should think about trying to catch up. It is phenomenal in my opinion (though apparently some people are not as happy with the story as I am…), and I get so stuck on the artwork that it is crazy. Maybe it is the art kid in me, but Tite Kubo's work just makes me swoon sometimes, and not even just with the attractiveness of his characters. I get all excited about placement and composition and geeky art terms like that. I even sent my mother a photo on my phone of one of the panels, gushing about the emotion portrayed by Ichigo in that particular scene. *Sigh* if only the chapters were not so short.**

**But enough of my rambling. It's time for another update. This is going to be the earthquake and tsunami, and will be the longest chapter to date. Remember friends, this story is AU, so I've taken some creative liberty and arranged some things to benefit the story. Be kind in your reviews.**

**Warnings for this chapter:**** Some language, dark/scary situations, depictions of death.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I own any OCs and the plot, but that is all.**

**Chapter 3**

_5:46 p.m._

One moment, Orihime was thinking of a way to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between her and the man that had stuck up for her against a coworker. The next, she was aware of her stance on the usually solid floor becoming unsteady. It took the girl a few seconds to understand that it was the building shaking and not just a trick of her imagination. With wide eyes, she reached out to steady herself, grabbing the closest thing to hold onto, which happened to be the arm of the recently introduced Ichigo.

If the man was offended by her touch, he showed no indication of it. Instead, he furthered the contact, reaching up to grasp her shoulder firmly as the tremors began to increase.

"An earthquake?" Orihime spoke quietly, her voice full of disbelief. But her guess was confirmed when the building's alarm system began to blare.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew what she was supposed to do in this situation. Earthquakes were not that uncommon in Japan, seeing at they were a hot spot for tectonic plates moving, but she could feel the difference almost instantly. This wasn't a small tremor that lasts for barely a second. This was larger, stronger. Knowing what to do in a situation like this and being able to apply it to said situation were two completely different things, and the orange-haired girl was having trouble remembering a course of action.

She wasn't the only one who seemed to forget. Somewhere in the gallery a woman screamed, and a few yells rang out to fill the air along with the shrill alarm system. The floor rocked violently under her feet, and she stumbled, nearly falling to the tiles below, but she was caught by the sturdy arms of Ichigo, who immediately pulled her to his chest.

"Get down," he ordered quickly, pulling both of them down to the floor. From there, he ushered them both the nearest wall. His authority was clear, and Orihime listened without any hesitation. While she was drawing a blank, he seemed to know exactly what to do, and his ability to think quickly in such a situation was a comfort to her. She did as he said, pressing her back against the wall and pulling her limbs in as tightly as she could to make herself as small as possible. She expected him to do the same, but watched in surprise as he positioned himself over her, his arms locking against the wall on either side of her. He was shielding her, she realized, using his body as a barrier.

"Ichigo?" Her voice took on a questioning nature, and he immediately picked up on what she meant by the tone.

"I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't try to protect you," he answered quickly, though his expression didn't match his light-hearted words. He glanced down at her, noting that she still was concerned, and he nodded firmly. "I'm fine. Just hang on," he assured her, his eyes intense as he looked at her.

She could feel the warmth of his skin radiating from him, though he did his best to put space between them even as he tried to protect her, ever the gentleman. Orihime cursed her body's immediate reaction to blush at his proximity, but said nothing of the man's closeness.

"Should we not leave the building?" she asked quietly, her voice barely heard over the alarm system. Already, the shaking was getting worse. The plastic containers on the wall spilled their contents, papers sliding across the floor once again. She could hear a light bust in the galley space, glass tinkling as it hit the tiles. Plaster in the ceiling above them began to break, the white chunks falling to coat the two of them in a layer of dust and debris.

"We have to wait for it to pass," Ichigo replied, his voice calm as he observed his surroundings. "It'd be dangerous to try and move right now."

Orihime closed her eyes, pushing further back into the wall behind her as she tried to control her breathing. She could feel her heart racing, her head reeling as she tried to remain calm. She didn't see how the man was remaining so composed, his gaze alert as he scanned the hall. Here she was, nearly hyperventilating, and he was in control. Or at least he was on the outside.

If asked, she couldn't tell you how long the shaking continued. It felt like hours, days, but was most likely only a few minutes. But when the world stopped its shaking, it was as if time had been paused. She didn't react right away, her mind still caught in the earthquake though the tremors had stopped. It wasn't until Ichigo called her name that she snapped out of her trance, looking up to meet warm brown eyes.

"Let's get out of here," he said softly, pulling her up from her spot on the ground.

X

Ichigo was reminded of a warzone as he looked at his surroundings. Glass covered the floor, mostly from lights that had not been able to withstand the pressure of the earthquake. People stood on unsteady legs, regaining their bearings in the now still building. Some were crying, some were cursing, and some looked too shocked to really have any reaction at all.

He was aware that Orihime seemed to fall into the latter category, having receded into her mind so far that she had not realized the shaking had ended. Though she now responded to him, standing alongside him as they began to move, he could tell she was still struggling to grasp what had happened. Not that he blamed her. He could barely believe it himself.

They passed the elevator, instead choosing to take the stairs. Orihime clung to his jacket's sleeve, allowing him to tug her along behind him. Not that he minded. He understood the need for an anchor in a situation like this. He would gladly serve that role for the girl until this whole thing was sorted out.

"Once we get outside, we can figure out the damage," he spoke over his shoulder, taking the stairs down. He struggled to remain at a calm pace, anxious to leave the building. It was ironic. Only a few minutes ago he was mourning the thought of postponing his exploration of the Mediatheque. Now he couldn't move fast enough on his way to the exit.

As they reached the second floor landing, the building lurched again, a second, smaller tremor rippling through the structure. Orihime let out a gasp, gripping at the wall with open hands as she steadied herself. Ichigo was less fortunate, not having the wall to hold onto as he was perched precariously at the edge of the closest flight of stairs. He felt his feet falter and knew he was going to fall. Bracing himself, he reached out towards the railing, only to have his grip slip and land heavily against the metal bar with his torso. The collision forced all of the air out of his lungs, a sharp pain radiating from his side as he groaned.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as the tremor ceased. He hadn't thought of aftershocks. Though this one was much less devastating and a hell of a lot shorter than the previous earthquake, it was still enough to make stairs difficult to descend.

"Are you alright?" the concerned voice of Orihime rang out, and Ichigo looked up to see her watching him closely.

Ichigo probed his side with gentle fingers, cursing under his breath once more as he touched the tender area. He was certain that his ribs were not supposed to feel like that, the slight ridge prominent as it slightly lifted away underneath his touch, moving a fraction of an inch with every breath and pressing into his skin. He didn't have to follow in his dad's footsteps into the medical field to know that two, maybe three ribs were broken.

"Just my ribs. I'll be okay," he assured her, knowing there was not much he could do about it at the moment. Having gotten his fair share of injuries in his adolescent fights, he was no stranger to broken ribs. It would be a bitch to breath until they were healed, as each breath would move the injured area, but he knew he could handle it.

But damn it, if it wouldn't slow them down. He could barely straighten his torso at the moment, the motion putting too much strain on his ribs to be comfortable. Already, his body was overriding his mind, refusing to listen to him as he told himself to take steady breaths and instead bringing in air in shallow pants, trying to keep his chest's movements as small as possible.

Orihime didn't seem convinced by his assurance and stepped forward, gently ducking under his arm to support him. "At least let me help you down the stairs," she insisted, looking up at him with an expression that gave no room for argument. The man was in no position to protest, and simply nodded, allowing the girl to help him down the last flight of stairs. The pain would subside in a few moments, at least enough for him to move freely without needing assistance, but at the moment he was grateful for it.

It wasn't until they got outside of the Mediatheque that the two could see the extent of the damage. Surprisingly, it seemed that there was not much destruction. Some broken glass littered the ground, some areas of the asphalt cracked where it had been smooth earlier, but it seemed that most of the buildings were intact, structurally sound.

That didn't stop the rising panic from seizing the pedestrians, however. Tons of people were scattered in the street, creating a mass of chaos as they weaved amongst the rows of cars that lined the street in bumper to bumper traffic. The traffic was stopped, either from fear of hitting the people crowding the streets or still stalled from the confusion of the earthquake. Orihime did not stray from Ichigo's side, sticking close as he tried to figure out the next course of action.

He couldn't stand still. Not with the way the crowd moved. He could hear police whistles, and watched as a few policemen with emergency kits started instructing people to move. An evacuation? What for? Perhaps some gas lines had been damaged. Ichigo couldn't think in the situation, not with the amount of people and the shrill sounds of the whistles as they cut through the air. Everyone was moving in the same direction, further into the city, and Ichigo found himself falling in step with them, tugging the girl along behind him. They seemed to know where they were going, and moving seemed like the better option.

"Do you have family nearby?" he asked quietly, his voice barely caring over the nervous conversations of those around them. The girl heard him just fine, however, and shook her head.

"No," she answered, though he could see something click in her mind. "My friend Tatsuki lives around here though."

"Call her," Ichigo replied calmly. "She's probably worried." As he spoke, he pulled out his own phone, punching his old man's number into the device before lifting it to his ear. The thought of his family sent a panic through his heart, and he silently prayed that everything was alright back at home.

His dad answered on the second ring. "_Ichigo? Are you alright?_"

"I'm fine," Ichigo said, wincing when a small movement sent pain through his torso. "Got some broken ribs from a fight with a staircase, but I'm in mostly one piece. Are you and the girls okay?"

"_We're fine_," Isshin confirmed, and Ichigo sighed in relief. "_Yuzu is a little upset, and Karin is putting on a strong face, but none of us are hurt. Not much damage here, thank God._"

"Good. There wasn't much in this part of the city, either, though I'm not sure about the rest of Sendai," the orange-haired man answered. Ichigo could hear Orihime on the phone, talking rapidly and assuring the person on the other line that she was okay. "Though that hasn't stopped people from being a little freaked out. The police are moving us, but there isn't any information being given out. Anything said on the news?" He was hoping there would be something to tell them what they could expect next, if there were going to be more aftershocks or what they would need to do now.

"_Hold on, let me turn on the television_," his dad muttered, and shuffling could be heard on the other line. It was another moment before his father spoke again. "_Jesus, it was a magnitude of 9.0, about 43 miles off the coast of the Touhoku region,_" his father said, his voice lowering ever so slightly. Ichigo figured his sisters were close by. If Yuzu was still upset, his father would probably try to keep his voice down, less the information scare her more. Especially when her brother was currently in the Touhoku region. "_I'm surprised you weren't hit harder than you were, seeing how close it was to Sendai. There saying there's a possibility of more aftershocks, so be careful._"

"I will be," Ichigo promised. Orihime suddenly stiffened next to him, and he heard her gasp as she came to a stop. He glanced down at the girl, watching as she covered her mouth, listening intently to the other person. People shot them glares as they maneuvered around them, but Ichigo wasn't paying them any attention. "Orihime?" he questioned. "What's wrong?"

His father was the one who answered that question. "_Holy shit_," Isshin breathed into the phone. "_Son, there's a tsunami_."

Ichigo's heart seized in his chest, and he struggled not to cough as he tried to control his breathing. "What?"

"_The earthquake caused a tsunami,_" Isshin repeated, his voice much more urgent. "_It's…God, Ichigo it's being reported as a major one, maybe ten feet high in some places._" Ichigo could hear his sister's in the background asking what was going on, Isshin's voice having grown louder. "_You've got to get to high ground. Now._"

Karakura Town was luckily far enough inland to avoid a tsunami, but Sendai was a port city, and with the earthquake happening so close they would be hit for sure. They were further inland in this part of the city. Could the water still reach them? How fast was this thing moving? The police hadn't said anything yet, but it was obviously by their urgent yells that they were in very real danger. His breathing quickened, and he tried to ignore the ache in his side as he forced himself to walk faster, pulling Orihime back into motion.

"How much time do we have?" Ichigo asked, his mind reeling. Where was he going to find high ground? He didn't have a car with him, and he didn't know the area. The odds weren't in his favor. "Do they have an estimate for Sendai?"

"Thirty minutes," Orihime spoke softly, bringing Ichigo's attention to her. She looked terrified, clutching her phone to her chest. "Tatsuki said the news was giving us thirty minutes. We are under mandatory evacuation."

"Damn it," Ichigo muttered, a shaky hand raking through his hair. Thirty minutes was not a lot of time to get somewhere.

"_Son, are you there?_" Isshin asked, frantically trying to gain his son's attention once more. "_Talk to me._"

"I'm here," Ichigo answered, his voice far calmer than it should have been. Maybe he was going into shock, he thought briefly, but even still he could feel the dread pooling in his stomach. "Orihime says we have thirty minutes."

If his father found it odd that he had mentioned another person, he didn't comment. "_You need to get as far away from the ocean as you can. Does this Orihime have a car?_"

"The roads are congested," Ichigo nearly groaned, shaking his head. "By the time we got to a car, it probably wouldn't do us much good." Even now, the sound of car horns was beginning to reach his ears. The roads had become all one direction, cars pushing forward as they tried to leave the city, but it was still slow going. "Fuck," he said in a low voice, knowing his tone held a note of terror. "Dad, I don't know what to do," he admitted. He was terrified, knowing they were running out of options.

"_Find a police man and see where you're supposed to go,_" Isshin fired back, doing his best to keep his wits about him.

Ichigo looked around, spotting a man in uniform close by, ushering people forward. "Sir! Hey, officer!" he called out, and the man looked up. "Where are we supposed to go?" he asked, watching as the man continued to wave people through.

"We are doing the best we can, young man," the officer responded, avoiding the question. The man was nervous, frantic in his movements to get the people moving, and Ichigo understood that this was a high stress situation, but he was going to lose his mind if he didn't get some kind of assurance that they had somewhere to go.

"That's not what I asked," Ichigo said, aware that some people were trying to listen in. He didn't want to cause a scene, and he knew that if he allowed his panic to get the best of him he may cause more harm than good. "Please, is there no where we can go for refuge? I'm not from this city. I don't know where we are being led."

The police officer hesitated, trying to word his answer, before sighing. "Listen, I don't know what to tell you other than we are trying to get everyone to high ground. Buses have already been sent out, and we are trying to load them up as quickly as possible, but they won't be enough." He paused, shouting out for the others to keep moving. "Right now, the pedestrian bridges are our best option."

"Would a building not work?" Orihime questioned the man after a moment, and Ichigo watched as the officer shook his head.

"We don't know how strong this wave will be when it reaches us, and there is a high possibility of fire in this situation, as a lot of these buildings are run on gas." Though the bridge wasn't the best option, the structural design would serve to help them in this situation. With space beneath the structure, it would allow the water to pass without creating much resistance, making it less likely to be swept away. As long as the bridge was soundly built, it would work as an escape from the water. "We are doing our best to get everyone out of harm's way. Please, follow the instructions we've given and keep moving."

Ichigo nodded, giving a quick thanks before moving on, pressing his phone back to his ear. "They said there are buses, but we won't all be able to leave. The remaining people are being led to pedestrian bridges for shelter."

There was a pause, and for a moment Ichigo thought the man had hung up. "Dad? Did you hear me?"

There was a hesitation on the line, and then Isshin spoke, his voice full of worry and urgency.

"_Find the sturdiest one you can and sit tight._"

X

The bridge they were led to ended up being sturdier that Ichigo first expected. The metal structure was well made, rooted deep in the concrete, and elevated to around fifteen feet over the street. Even as a last option, Ichigo felt it would do.

His father had been a nervous wreck when he tried to hang up. The older man had nearly put up a fit, ranting about the importance of communication during a crisis, but Ichigo knew he needed to save his battery. He didn't know how long he would actually be on that bridge, and he'd much rather wait out the tsunami in silence if it meant he could contact his family the minute he was safe. After a lot of convincing and promises of wellbeing, he finally ended the call, putting the phone back in his pocket as they neared the bridge. Sarcastically, Ichigo noted that at least the phone's case was waterproof, but he quickly shoved that train of thought out of his head, less it lead somewhere much less humorous.

It had taken them a little over ten minutes to walk that far. The tsunami would hit soon, he knew. The traffic was slowly beginning to flow together, moving much faster than it had been, but it was going to be a close call getting everyone out. Too close, Ichigo thought with despair.

It wasn't as crowded as it could have been, and they weren't anywhere near the weight limit that the bridge's sign boasted it could hold. From a logical standpoint, Ichigo should have felt rather confident as he and Orihime took to the stairs and found a spot on the bridge. But this wasn't a situation where logic could help. Natural disasters were chaotic, untamed, and no amount of reassurance was going to get rid of the sickening dread that had begun to settle over the bridge and its occupants.

Ichigo couldn't say he felt very safe, knowing the cold feeling in his gut would only get worse as the time got closer to the estimated arrival of the tsunami, but he felt safer on the bridge than he did on the sidewalk. As he lowered himself to sit, pushing his back against the railing of the bridge as he ignored his throbbing ribs, he let out a shaky breath. Orihime settled next to him quietly, and for a moment neither spoke.

"You're family," Orihime started, breaking the silence, "are they okay?" She fiddled with the hem of her jacket, and Ichigo could see she was shaking.

"Yeah," he said softly, looking down the street. The direction they were facing was towards the coastline. Though he could not see the ocean from here, he knew the water would come. "They are not close to the coast, so they won't have to worry about this."

He turned to look at her then, meeting her gaze. "What about your friend?"

"Tatsuki will be okay," she assured him, though the worry was evident on her face. "She's a lot tougher than I am, and very brave." She smiled at him, something that seemed to just belong on her face. Even though she was nervous, she believed what she said.

The two fell into silence again, both looking for any sign of water.

Ichigo could see the other people fidgeting. He allowed his gaze to sweep over each of them, taking in their expressions. They were all scared, the police still rounding up the remaining people and not giving much of an answer to any of the questioned they were asked, no doubt to cut down on the panic, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel his own fear creeping up the back of his neck. He was terrified, though he was doing his very best to make sure Orihime was left unaware of that fact. She was a sweet girl, and he knew she was using his calmness to find her own.

"Do you think we will be okay?" Orihime asked when another few minutes had passed.

The question was said quietly, her voice a little over a whisper. Though her face showed little emotion, Ichigo could see how her eyes darted from the others to the road. She wouldn't meet his gaze this time, and he wondered if she was afraid of what she would find if she did.

Reaching out a gentle hand, he grasped her shoulder. She was trembling underneath his hand, but he didn't comment on that. Instead, he forced a smile. It was weak, barely enough to be little more than a grimace, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

"Yeah, we'll be okay. We just have to hang tight and wait it out." Though the words did settle her nerves momentarily, the calm didn't last long.

It wasn't until a lady screamed nearby that Ichigo saw the water. The dark, muddy water was much slower than he expected, seeming to creep down the road at a walking distance, but he knew its speed was deceiving. It was much faster than it looked, would cover the ground in mere minutes, and would be strong enough to take any one of them if they were not out of its reach. He felt Orihime grip his jacket, and quickly covered her hand with his own in an attempt to comfort her. The shaking was back in her touch.

As the water moved closer, gaining momentum as it came in further, the police finally took to the bridge, guarding both ends to keep everyone contained and out of harm's way. Shouts of "Stay calm," and "Everyone just hang on," were given, and Ichigo forced himself to take calm breaths. Orihime's own breathing had quickened, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"We'll be okay," he repeated, though the words were delivered without the smile this time. She gave a nod, but she was anything but convinced.

As the water started to swirl around the bridge, another yell rang out, this time frantic in pitch. "There's someone down there!"

Ichigo stood at that, moving towards the opposite railing and searching the ever-rising water alongside some of the others. His eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of life as it raced underneath the bridge and down the street. There was no one in the water, which now reached nearly three feet high, and he found himself hoping the person who had shouted out had been mistake. But just as he wrote it off as a misunderstanding, he spotted a man standing near the overhang of a nearby building, having climbed on the top of a newspaper dispenser and staring at the water that lapped at his feet. He must have been inside the building at one point, but now he was caught outside, unable to get back in with the water rising.

"Someone's got to help him," a man mumbled next to him, and Ichigo watched in horror as the man's footing slipped momentarily, nearly sending the terrified man into the water below.

In that moment, Ichigo forgot the ache in his ribs, and the way his breaths had become ragged, and the terror that threatened to overtake him. Everything else faded away as he watched the man's face contort in fear. All he could think of was helping that man, and he pushed himself towards the end of the bridge where the police stood at the steps.

"Ichigo?" Orihime called after him, but stayed where she was, and Ichigo continued forward.

Ichigo skidded to a stop at the stairs, looking down at the steadily flowing water. It was close to five feet deep now, and moving fast enough to be considered dangerous. He looked frantically at the police officers who had huddled together, discussing options. "We've got to help him," Ichigo said firmly, his eyes glancing once more to the man trapped against the building.

"Son, let us handle this," one of the officers spoke.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ichigo asked, aware that a few other people had also stepped up behind him, chiming in that they were willing to help as well.

The police officers exchanged looks, before nodding. "Is anyone here a strong swimmer?"

Ichigo raised his hand immediately, ignoring the ache in his ribs that resulted from the motion. He had done more with more severe injuries. His ribs would forgive him later.

One of the officers nodded at him, and dug through an emergency equipment bag that they all carried, the neon orange fabric rivaling Ichigo's hair in brightness. He produced a rope, long enough to go the length of the bridge and back probably, and held it up tentatively.

"We'll need a volunteer, someone willing to swim over to the man and secure this rope on the building, or perhaps one of the dispensers. You'll use it as a life line once it is secure." He looked to the others behind Ichigo. "You would need to pull them back if the rope breaks. And once they get to safety they'll need these blankets." He held up the emergency heat blankets that were also in the kits as he spoke, waiting for the others to nod in understanding before he continued. "We do not have much time before the water becomes too high to get across safely, so we will have to move fast."

His eyes went back to Ichigo, his expression betraying his nerves as he addressed the orange-haired man. "Are you sure you are okay with doing this?" The look in his eyes spoke of another question, left unspoken. _Are you sure you want to risk it?_

Ichigo looked to the water below, to the man against the wall, and then over his shoulder to at Orihime. She was watching him silently, gripping the rail tightly where he had left her. Her eyes went to the man in danger before returning to him, and to Ichigo it felt like a silent acceptance, almost like she was approving of what he planned to do to help. He didn't know why that eased his ability to make his decision, but when he turned back to the police officer, his jaw had set in determination, and he gave a firm nod.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

With the rope in tow, wrapped around his arm a few times before making sure it was held tightly in his hand, Ichigo began his way down the stairs and into the water. Each step led him further in, until his feet touched the pavement of the road. The water was still only at his chest, but he could feel the tug it had and he immediately ground his heels down into the concrete below, hoping that the grip on his running shoes would not fail. The water was colder than he expected, and he could feel the chill creeping underneath his skin at the prolonged contact, soaking every inch of material on his body. It stole his breath momentarily, his lungs seizing in his chest, but he quickly brought his body under control.

The other volunteers allowed him to have some slack in the rope, and he started towards his target. It was only about thirty feet, but Ichigo knew this was about to be the longest thirty feet of his life. His steps were slow, measured as he tested the strength of the water rushing around him, but he kept his pace steady.

Ichigo could see the man watching him as he neared, his gaze nervous as he held onto the wall behind him. The orange haired man focused on his steps, but was keenly aware of the other's fear. It was contagious, and Ichigo could almost feel his heart quicken as he got closer and closer.

When he was close enough to reach out, Ichigo lifted his free hand, grasping a hold of the man's outstretched arm and letting the man help him the rest of the way. He pushed his body against the newspaper dispenser that now stood completely submerged in the water, giving himself some leverage as he looked for a place to tie the rope.

"Are you alright?" he asked the man, who returned a nod.

"Better now that you are here," the man admitted, his voice shaking as he spoke. "I didn't realize how quick the water would rise. Thank you so much for helping me out. I didn't know what I was going to do."

"It's no problem. We're going to get you out of this water and dried off once we get back to the others," Ichigo assured him, looking around the building that they stood next to. "Once I tie this rope off somewhere, we will use it as a guide to get back across. Got it?"

"Yes," the other man said quickly, nodding frantically as he spoke.

Ichigo gave him a small, yet confident, smile. "Let's get you over to that bridge, yeah?"

Tying the rope off proved to be easier than he first thought, as the newspaper dispenser was nailed down through the sidewalk. Ichigo looped the rope through the handle before tying it in a knot to hold it in position. Once he was certain it would hold, he ushered the man in front of him.

For a moment, the man hesitated, unsure of getting further down into the water. He realized the man probably wasn't as sure of his swimming abilities; otherwise he probably would have tried to make his way over without the help of the others on the bridge. But fear was a funny thing sometimes, and he couldn't overcome it to get across the current alone.

With a little coaxing from Ichigo, he finally slipped into the current, holding onto the rope for dear life. It was another minute before Ichigo could convince him that the rope would hold, but that they would have to move quickly. The water had continued to rise, reaching Ichigo's neck now, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold his ground against the rushing water. But the rope was providing the extra stability they needed, and he was confident that they would make it back in time.

They were only half way there when Ichigo's eye caught movement on his right side.

In hindsight, he should have realized that there were more dangers to the water other than the swiftness of the current or the height of the waves. Yes, the speed of the water was a problem, and having it up to your neck restricted your movement, but what caused more issues was what could be carried through the water at that speed. Ichigo remembered this too late to react.

He should have thought about debris.

The man in front of him was hit first, the heavy pieces of a broken wooden fence ramming into him with a great deal of force in the shoulder. Ichigo watched in horror as the man's grip was broken, and the orange-haired man reached out to grab a hold of him only to have the man's shirt slip through his fingers.

"No!" Ichigo hollered, flailing out to try and grab any part of the man, but it was too late, his movements too sluggish in the chilly water. The man had lost his footing with the impact of the planks, and the water quickly swept him away, his head disappearing beneath the current.

For a moment, Ichigo could only yell at the water, a string of curses leaving his lips as his eyes scanned the brown liquid that crested and fell around him. His ribs burned as his chest heaved, his eyes frantically searching to no avail. He could hear the others on the bridge, shouting, but he couldn't make out what they said. He didn't have long to dwell on the disappearance of the man he had volunteered to save, however, as the rest of the fence was still being swept through the water. Ichigo couldn't move fast enough to dodge it.

Heavy wood hit his side, directly above his broken ribs, and Ichigo felt his vision go white with the amount of pain surging through his body from the blow. But that was not what made his grip falter. In his pain, he had closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back, willing the pain to subside. He never saw the next board flowing along the surface of the water towards his head. It rammed into his forehead, slicing the skin above his eyebrow easily. The blow left Ichigo disoriented, and he felt his hands open on reflex, his feet sliding along the submerged pavement below him, and he knew he was going to be carried away. He opened his mouth to yell, only to have it filled with water when his feet were swept out from under him and sent him completely in the water. Coughing and sputtering, he reached out for anything to hold onto, but the water moved him too fast.

He was carried away from the bridge in a matter of seconds.

X

Orihime could recall stories of people sensing danger. Dread stirring in their bellies, bubbling up to cause the person to feel uneasy or distressed. The quickening of a heart, the hitch of a breath. All signs of the doom that was to come.

But as she watched her newly acquainted friend travel across the water, she hadn't felt anything close to those accounts. There was no sickening feeling of things going horribly bad. There was no indication of something being…off, or just not exactly right. Maybe she had been distracted by the trauma that she had already experienced, or perhaps she had slipped into shock when she wasn't paying attention. Either way, she had been confident in Ichigo's rescue attempt.

He had looked at her before he had gone, one last fleeting look, and it felt as if he was gaging her reaction. In all honestly she was terrified for him, afraid of what would happen when he stepped into that water. But when she saw the look of sheer horror on the other's face, clinging to the wall as his feet slipped and faltered on the newspaper dispenser he had taken refuge on, she had returned his gaze with a look of confidence. The look of determination that crossed his face was enough to ease her worries. She may not have known him long, but he seemed like the type of person who went out of his way to protect people around him. She had experienced that firsthand within the last hour. And she was not going to stand in his way when he may very well be the only person able to help.

It had been smooth. He had gotten to the man in record time, attached the rope, and started back with the man in front of him, as if to assure his safety before his own. And throughout that time, Orihime watched, gripping the rail of the bridge in anticipation but never doubting he'd make it.

So when the fence was swept into them, she had lost her breath.

She watched, wishing to close her eyes but unable to look away, as the first man was swallowed by the water, swept underneath in a single blow, planks from the fence knocking him away from the rope he clung so desperately too. The orange-haired man reached for him, had a hold of his shirt for a brief moment before he slipped from his grip and further into the water. In a second he was gone, Ichigo left to grasp at open air. She followed the flowing water with her eyes, hoping to see the man resurface, but he never came back up.

Her attention was snapped back to Ichigo as he yelled, the sound full of agony, and frustration, and horror. He was looking to the water, searching for any sign of the man. She could hear the other men that had stepped forward as volunteers, all of them trying to figure out how to get the man back but finding themselves stuck on the sidelines. The rope had been left uncut against the fence, rendering them unable to pull Ichigo back to safety. They were left shouting in urgent voices at the young man in the water, hoping he would take the words to heart and increase his pace back to the bridge.

But Orihime watched as Ichigo was hit next, dangerously close to his broken ribs if Orihime remembered correctly. His head fell back to look at the sky as the pain spread across his face. Another board came right after the other, catching him in the forehead. She could see the blood drip from his brow before his head was forced under in the current, his hand releasing the rope, left shaking in the air as if to taunt the man who had held it as a lifeline. That hand reached out for anything to take a hold of, fingers wide-spread and tensed, but it soon sunk beneath the water as well, leaving nothing but the flowing water in its wake.

She didn't realize she had screamed until her throat began to protest, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she watched the water. She was aware of others around her, some sparing her a brief glimpse, but all eyes were on the water. She stared longingly, pleading with it to give the man back.

_Come up. Come on, Ichigo, come up for air._

Surely he would need to breathe soon. The words became a chant in her mind, repeated over and over, but it was trailed of as he didn't resurface. The water was moving too fast, too strong. No one knew what to do at first: not the policemen, not the volunteers, and not the other people on the bridge. It had happened so quickly, in a matter of moments it seemed, and suddenly people who seemed on the verge of safety had been reclaimed by the water.

Orihime stared at the water far longer than necessary. When others had turned away, she continued to watch, hoping a peak of orange could be seen within the waves below. But as the minutes passed by, she slowly began to realize just how useless it was to continue searching. Even if he did come back up, something that seemed very unlikely, the water would have carried him much further by now, out of sight.

With a heavy heart, she forced herself to turn back around, sliding down to sit against the railing once more as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. She usually prided herself on her optimism, always seeing the brighter side of things when others gave up hope. Tatsuki always teased her in a light-hearted way for her cheerful disposition, claiming her friend could find the good in any situation. But right now, all she could think of was how Ichigo had literally been engulfed by the water below and she could not find anything good after watching him being drug under.

With a shaking hand, she wiped at the underside of her eyes, which she realized were moist with fresh tears. She had never seen death before, and she knew her nerves were shattered from the display that she had just witnessed. "Death" sounded like the wrong word within her mind, but there was no other word for it. She had seen it, the way both Ichigo and the other man were swept under and failed to appear again.

She hadn't known him for long, but her heart tightened within her chest at the thought of this man dying. He had been kind to her, and he had stuck by her side in this tragedy that had befallen the city, befallen the nation. He had even been brave enough to risk his life for another, a stranger, and had met an untimely death because of it. Orihime knew there was nothing that could have been done to save him, but she suddenly felt very useless.

Her eyes slid closed to stop the onslaught of tears, but the last image of Ichigo's eyes finding hers before he ventured into the water was awaiting her in the darkness of her mind, reminding her that this man had indeed been taken away, and he was not coming back.

The dread she felt in her gut seemed much sharper, she noted, when it was unexpected.

X

"Oi! Boy, are you okay?"

The voice was dulled, muffled as if by distance. Ichigo didn't know which direction it was coming from, nor did he know when he had left the cold embrace of the water. One minute, he had been submerged, and the next he was pulled out, coughing with great force to clear his burning lungs, his body singing as water was replaced with air.

His head was throbbing, the sea water stinging his cut and only adding to the growing headache that had developed from the blow. He was aware that he was on his back, staring up at the sky as he gasped for air, but he could only make out the changes in light and dark. Slowly, his vision sharpened, and revealed a man leaning over him. He was older than Ichigo, probably in his forties, his skin tanned and wrinkled from days in the sun, doing labor no doubt. Grey hair mixed within the black painted a humble picture, but his somewhat unimpressive appearance was redeemed by the intelligent gleam in his dark eyes. Those eyes were wide and piercing as he looked down at Ichigo, his mouth moving quickly as he spoke once more.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

Ichigo tried to speak, but only managed a groan as he tried to push himself up, his movements sluggish and stiff. Pain shot up his side immediately at the small movement, and he hissed his discomfort, jaw clenching as he willed the ache to pass. A hand reached out to steady him, gripping his shoulder tightly and pushing him back down onto his back.

"Woah, don't push it," the man said firmly, his voice returning to a normal volume as Ichigo's hearing clicked in place. "That's quite a bump on the head. I doubt it is all you're hurting from, either."

"Where…?" Ichigo asked, his voice coming out as a croak. He let his head swivel to the side, trying to take in his surroundings. Where was he?

The other man spoke up at the question. "Near the Osaki Hachiman Shrine, sitting on the roof of what was my house. You're lucky I saw you, that you are. I was starting to think there was no hope once you got caught in the water. But you've proven that wrong, boy." He shook his head, a small smile on his face as he studied Ichigo. "That crop of orange hair was like a beacon in the brown water, riding on a wooden plank of some sorts. You were close enough that I could pull you out. I'm just glad you are breathing. For a while it looked like you weren't going to wake up."

Ichigo ignored the quip about his hair, his mind moving slowly through the words that the other had said. Osaki Hachiman Shrine? That was further inland than the Mediatheque, but his lack of knowledge about the city's layout had him questioning exactly how far he had gone in the water. He hadn't really known where they were with the bridge, following the mass of people without taking the time to take in his surroundings, so his orientation was even worse than usual.

The orange-haired man's head snapped back to the older man as his thoughts filled with the events at the bridge. The rescue attempt, the man being pulled under, all of it appeared in his mind in rapid succession. Ichigo reached out, grabbing the arm of the man who had drug him out of the water.

"There was another…another man. Did you see him? Is he safe?"

Ichigo watched in dismay as the older man's face fell, his eyes lowering as he answered. "Son, you are the only one I've seen come through here. Or at least, you were the only one who was at the surface."

Ichigo let his eyes slide closed as a heavy weight settled over his heart. He hadn't saved the man. If anything, he had probably brought him a swifter death. In the back of his mind, Ichigo knew the man would not have survived if he had been left on his spot against the building, clinging to the wall as he sat on that metal newspaper dispenser, but the fence wouldn't have hit him there. Ichigo had been the one to coax him into the currents, assuring him that he would be okay.

But he was not okay. He was probably dead.

Ichigo felt his chest ache, though he knew it was not from his injuries. This was deeper, more complex than a physical pain. He felt like a failure, but what was worse is he felt the inevitable pang of guilt. It was only by luck that he managed to hang onto one of the planks from the fence, and he couldn't even remember doing so. It was by chance that he hadn't drowned, considering he must have been knocked somewhat unconscious, or at the very least disoriented. Why had he been saved? Why had he deserved to live?

As if sensing his thoughts, the older man reached out to gently pat his arms. Ichigo half expected a word of comfort, but was relieved when none was offered. It was enough to have the man understand the pain he felt, without trying to justify it so soon. Any pretty words right now would probably only serve to send him over the edge and further into his pain, something he was already teetering on the edge of.

The man pulled away, probably not knowing what else to do to comfort the younger man, but he quickly picked up in conversation. "I reckon we will just have to wait it out now. No body's going to be able to get out here to help until after the water has settled down, so we might as well just sit tight."

Ichigo heard the words loud and clear, pushing himself up gingerly on his side with the help of the other before nodding his agreement. The man continued to talk, filling the silence with observations and estimates of when others would be arriving to help them off of the roof, but Ichigo's ear were trained on another sound. The sound of rapidly running water and the distinctive rhythm of his heartbeat, much louder and more accusing than usual. He had survived. Others, unfortunately, had not.

And right now, and he could think about was that unnamed man's face as he was drug under water and out of Ichigo's hands.

**Oh, gosh that was a really long one. Twice the length of the first chapter, if you can believe it. I hope I was able to hold your attention and not have you clicking that back button before finishing the chapter. I get wordy, but I've learned to live with it. Not much sense in changing it now. I also hope I didn't throw too much at you, to the point of this update feeling rushed. **

**I'm drained physically, mentally and emotionally, so not much left to say here except for let me know what you think.**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! Apologies for long waits and delayed responses to reviews (If you're a guest reviewer, I obviously can't respond to you, but take this as my thank you!). Been on the work / spontaneous vacation to internet-less beaches / Vans Warped Tour train for a little bit and have had zero free time to write. I keep promising to do better, but, well…I'm human. Forgive me. I am trying to get these updates out as soon as I possibly can.**

**This update won't be nearly as long as the last (that was a monster of an update), but I hope it is just as well received as the previous chapters have been :) everyone seems to like this story, and I am beyond thrilled by that! Thanks to all who have stuck with it thus far, leaving me reviews to keep me motivated, and I hope it continues to please you, the readers!**

**Tiny side note: Y'ALL. BLEACH IS STARTING THE LAST ARC IN THE MANGA. Bittersweet, really. I want to see how it all ends, but I feel a lot of deaths coming on, and I'm worried that my heart won't be able to take it. Both nervous and excited (though there is a five week hiatus for Kubo to gear up for the beginning of the end, so I have to wait until August 21 to even start this last arc!). **

**Also, as previously mentioned, I attended Vans Warped Tour on its Charlotte, North Carolina stop, and GUYS I MET TWO MEMBERS OF CROSSFAITH. Banking on the fact that you don't know that band name, so let me explain. Crossfaith is a metal/hardcore band I follow, a quintet from Osaka, Japan who were apart of this year's Warped Tour. (On a serious note, if you don't like metal, I don't suggest listening to them. They go hard.) I'm a huge fan, and I got to meet the drummer, Tatsu, and the DJ, Teru. Talked to them very briefly (their English was actually not terrible, though they had really thick accents, which was adorable). I was literally shaking haha, but I got pictures, so it was totally worth it! Woot! Plus, when I was buying a shirt at their booth later, they had a box marked for the Japan Tsunami/Earthquake Recovery Fund, which I donated to. It was strange to see that in person, with this story on my mind. It verifies that the event is still a very big influence on their daily life and still needs help with the recovery effort. **

**Anyways, this is the back to the ****present**** time, so flashbacks are over (for now? May need them later). Moving right along in the story and gearing up for a reunion (if that is a spoiler to you, I hope it didn't come as too much of a shock haha after all, there will be a love story amongst the drama I've put these two it). **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own only plot and an OCs that are involved in this AU world I have created. I only borrow the characters for creative purposes.**

**Chapter 4**

It wasn't until two weeks after Ichigo had been moved into his apartment that preparations were made. Paper work needed to be filled out, medical forms sent off to Architects for Humanity to assure Ichigo was a strapping young man with the ability to help in construction if need be, and all that was left to be done was confirming living arrangements and checking plane tickets. The orange-haired man was excited for the opportunity, but it hadn't quite sunken in just what he was about to do.

Isshin, the worrisome father he is, had constantly asked if his son was sure. Through every step of the process the question was voiced, and every time Ichigo answered with "I'm positive". While he appreciated his father's concerns, he had never been more sure of a decision in his life. Though it still felt unreal, he was ready to begin the new experience.

The night before his plane was set to take off for Sendai, Ichigo found himself checking his luggage once more. The checklist Yuzu had made sat on the desk, each item crossed out hastily as it was placed in the large suitcase he planned on taking. He was going to stay for a full year, so most things would be bought upon arriving, but things like clothes and toiletries were still to in need of being packed. All of his needed paperwork for traveling was secured into one folder, ready to go for tomorrow. Now if he could just decide on the clothes to take he'd be all set.

He had never packed for a yearlong trip, or at least not one this far away, and Ichigo found himself wondering how much would be enough for him to survive. There would be the ability to buy more clothes if he needed, but he hated going on this trip and feeling like he was unprepared. The anxiety to pack everything he'd need resulted in a headache and clothes spread everywhere in the room, piles of "taking" and "not taking" covering every available surface. He felt overwhelmed by the mountains of clothes, but it still couldn't squash his excitement to return to Sendai.

He was going to get to go back and get another chance to help. He could make up for the last time he was there.

_No_. The word rang loudly in his ears, so loud that he actually paused in his packing. He closed his eyes as he forced his thoughts to calm. _I can't think like that._ Ichigo let a heavy breath out through his nose, coming to sit on the edge of his bed amongst the clothes that littered the blanket.

He hasn't thought like that since the early months after the disaster. When he and that older man who had drug him out of the water were rescued, he should have felt relief. Instead, he had been completely thrown into his grief. Those first months home had been an entirely new nightmare, struggling with the guilt he felt for what had happened that day. It was normal to mourn. How could you not when the death counts where plastered on every news station, the lists of the missing posted on every street corner? It was okay to feel sorrow and pain from what was lost. What was not okay was for him to blame himself for not being listed in those numbers, in those who were never recovered.

For a while, he had found himself permanently fixed in front of those names and numbers. The missing especially called to him. He'd search the names every day without fail, watching as some were found alive and others just simply found. His eyes would peer at every letter, every character written, looking for something, anything that stood out. He never knew the man's name. Not once while they tried to get to the bridge had it been spoken, but he still searched, hoping something would grab him in the gut and he would just _know_. He didn't know if he was alive or dead, thought he felt instinctively that it was the latter. Had he been found? Did his family know that Ichigo had done his best to save him? Did they blame him like he had blamed himself?

Therapy was eventually sought out, more on the part of his family than himself. In all honesty, Ichigo never would have admitted something was wrong. The orange-haired boy had fully accepted his feelings, feeling it to be some type of justice, a punishment he deserved. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the moments where he slipped back into his mind where the waters waited to claim him once more…all of it was his to bear alone. But Isshin was disturbed by his son's actions, and could sit by no longer. Ichigo would always be grateful for his father's intervention, though at the time it felt like he had been betrayed. But his way of thinking was wrong. He had to come to grips with it, accept it, and find a way to move back on.

Ichigo didn't realize his grip on the shirt in his hands had tightened until he forced himself to relax. He was better. He didn't need to think like that anymore. What had happened was a natural phenomenon, something out of his control, and he can't save everyone. He had tried, and it had gone wrong, but that did not mean he had to suffer guilt for it.

With a small nod to himself he stood, resuming his packing. He needed to reenter Sendai with a clear head and conscious, ready to rebuild the areas that still desperately needed help. He couldn't think about where he had fallen short. He needed to focus on what he could do to help now, in the present.

X

"How's it going?"

The buxom girl turned quickly, meeting the gaze of one of her coworker, Hina. The woman was watching her with an amused smile, as if already knowing the answer to her question. Orihime had been watching the clock dutifully for the last thirty minutes, watching as the minute hand neared the six. She was not required to stay past five thirty, and she was getting anxious of the time.

Orihime had the mind to look sheepish as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Not as fast as I'd like," the girl admitted with a laugh, turning back to the display in front of her.

The new art had been shipped in that morning, and they were having one hell of a time setting everything up. The artist that the Mediatheque was supporting for the next six months had been very specific in how each piece was to be hung. They were separate works that worked together as a very elaborate, interlacing piece, and even the slightest change would throw the entire thing off. In her hand was a list of specific instructions for the gallery to go by, and already Orihime had had trouble with it. The artist had every right to be particular, but it was still giving Orihime a headache.

"This stuff won't hang itself," she continued, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She had broken into a sweat trying to hang the pieces in their correct spaces. Even with the help of some assistants, it was a lot of hard work.

"Yes, but you are nearly done for the day," Hina laughed, shaking her head. Her eyes crinkled underneath the fringe of her bangs, and Orihime found the expression to encourage her own smile. "You work too hard. You're not an intern, anymore, so give yourself a break. I can finish this up here."

"I can't do that to you," Orihime insisted, shaking her head. "It's a lot of work."

"But it is almost completely set up," Hina pointed out, gesturing to the display. It _was _almost finished. The orange-haired girl knew that. She also knew the clock was ticking away, and she was going to be late for weekly dinner with Tatsuki.

Orihime opened her mouth to politely refuse the offer, but the older woman would have none of it. "Oh, go on! I've got you covered," she said as she playfully shooed the girl away. Her coworker was just as stubborn, and knew how the girl loved to keep to a schedule. With a sigh of defeat, Orihime nodded.

"Thanks Hina," she said with a bright smile, handing over the instructions. With light footsteps, she started towards her office to gather her belongings. It was relatively quiet on the floor, the gallery being closed to allow the art to be hung without the curious eyes of visitors and the possibility of things going missing or getting damaged. It let her work peacefully, and allowed for much more comfortable clothing to move the heavy pieces. She had donned a simple white tee shirt and jean shorts to move the pieces around, her hair bobbing happily in a high ponytail as her sneakers squeaked against the tile floor.

The gallery could finish without her. There would be people there until eight, and as Hina had mentioned, all that was needed was the final details. Two more pieces hung and a run through the list and everything would be set to open tomorrow morning. And it allowed the girl to remain on schedule.

She would get off of work at five thirty, and be back at the apartments by six. She'd drop off her work stuff at the door, meet Tatsuki at her place on the same floor of the complex, and they would go together to the ramen shop down the street, a favorite of theirs. After dinner, she would return to her place for some television and then have her tea before going to bed. It was a tradition. It was a ritual.

Maybe if she was feeling exceptionally wild and carefree, she'd sit in front of her unfilled applications for an hour or so, willing herself to write the answers to the questions they asked. That was always a change of pace.

Orihime rolled her eyes at the sarcastic thought. Yes, Tatsuki would definitely tease her tonight for her procrastination. She had promised her friend that she would start those last week, and she had failed to get even one started. The black-haired girl would give her grief for not doing the task, but she would let it go eventually. She was a good friend. She knew how Orihime felt, and even if she teased her for her shortcomings, she would always be a support system for her to turn to.

The orange-haired girl let that thought ease her worries, and she quickly gathered her things. The faster she got her stuff, the sooner she could set out to meet Tatsuki.

X

It didn't sink in right away that Ichigo was actually there.

He had gone through the motions since last night after he had finished packing, a feat within itself. Running on barely five hours of sleep, he had gone to the airport with his family in tow. He had sat in the back, wedged between his sisters upon their request, and reassured them that yes, he would be fine. He had exchanged a few meaningful looks in the rearview mirror with his father, but when they had arrived at the airport, a pat on the shoulder was all the encouragement Ichigo needed. Isshin was worried, of course, but he was proud of him and would support him in this.

He had said his goodbyes, repeating the promise to call at least once a week, and gave one last hug to each of his family members, trying to memorize the embrace as best as he could for when he got homesick.

The plane ride was uneventful. It had no connecting flight. There was no turbulence. There had been an annoying woman in the seat next to him that kept calling the flight attendant over for obscene questions like "If the plane catches fire, what are we supposed to do?" and "How many life vests are there, exactly, in case of an emergency?" First time fliers were always jumpy, but this lady was ridiculous. But even that had not dampened his mood.

The airport had been just the way that he remembered it from those years ago. A massive glass widow that covered two stories of the building was still there, showing him the runways and the planes waiting to take off. There were tons of people milling around, some looking for family and friends, others waiting for flights, and others still just sitting there watching as each plane took off from the ground. Ichigo had gone right past them, walking to the exit to find a taxi that could take him to his apartment.

It wasn't until he really looked, confined in the small backseat of the cab that picked him up and spitting out the memorized address to his new home, that he truly understood that he was officially back. He could remember some of the landmarks, some of the major names of buildings and tourist attractions. He remembered passing through some of these streets years ago. The faces have changed, some buildings had been renovated, and it still held an air of unfamiliarity, but he remembered this place.

And everywhere he looked, he saw the signs. Slight water damage on the sides of buildings, reaching nearly ten feet off the ground. Vacant lots that once housed buildings were now abandoned, or more often than not collecting trash and debris. Some homemade signs on poster board or construction paper made for the victims and their families, some boasting donations and fundraisers while others still looked for those missing. Though the city was as popular as ever, running like usual, the side effects were clear.

As he took in the sights, seeing the things that had stayed the same and the things that had changed from the Earthquake and Tsunami, Ichigo knew he had made the right choice in coming here. This was where he was needed.

When he arrived to the apartment complex that would serve as his new home, he was already determined to make the best of this trip. It was a pretty normal place, exposed balconies leading to each door, the building rising three stories from the ground. His room was the first door on the second floor, directly off the stairs.

Tomorrow morning he would have a meeting with the Architects for Humanity group here in Sendai to find out where he will be assigned and what type of work he will be doing for the first of many projects. Today, however, they have allowed for him to settle in and rest. Travel was always tiresome, so he appreciated the down time.

But that down time turned into busy work. His apartment was nice, for sure, plus it was fully furnished, but he wasn't going to live out of his suitcase for the entire year. Clothes had to unpacked and put away. Furniture had to be arranged to his liking. Electronics needed to be plugged up. The thermostat had to be changed immediately; he wasn't about to endure the 80 degree heat that had greeted him when he opened the door and stepped inside.

By a quarter 'til six everything was set up to his liking. Ichigo hummed in approval as he straightened up to his full height, pushing the suitcase further under his freshly made bed with his foot. He didn't require much, and though the walls were still empty he was already feeling more comfortable in the apartment. A few pictures or posters on the white surfaces would be all he needed, but that could wait. He looked around the rooms, nodding his head in satisfaction as he moved from his bedroom, the bathroom, the living area joining the kitchen. Everything was in order, or at least close enough to not bother the orange-haired man.

His stomach growled, a reminder that he had not eaten since the quick lunch at the airport, and he trudged across the wooden floor to his refrigerator, bear feet thudding against the dark wood. He pulled back on the handle and ducked down to search the fridge, only to let out a groan of disappointment. The fridge was empty. He had forgotten he'd need to stock it.

He allowed a hand to run over his features, chuckling at his moment of stupidity. At least no one was here to see that. Food should have been the first thing on his list of things to buy, and he was sure if he had kept that list Yuzu had given him, he would see it bolded and at the top of the page.

At the thought of his sister, his head snapped up. He quickly padded back to his bedroom, pulling open his backpack that had served as a carry on for the flight, now sat in a chair against the wall. Nestled within the compartments was a last minute gift from his blonde sister, and as his fingers curled around it his face broke into a wide grin. The cookbook was small, but chock full of recipes that happened to be simple meals. Simple was right up his alley. He wasn't useless in the kitchen, but he wasn't exactly a professional either.

He flipped through the pages as he walked back to the kitchen, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked through the thoughtful present. Finding a pen and paper he had haphazardly stuffed into a drawer earlier, he scribbled a few ingredients down for some of the quicker recipes. He could stock up fully later, but right now he was happy to just have the essentials for a decent meal.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, he noted the time. Five fifty-seven. That was plenty of time to get to the store and back before it got too dark. He had seen a grocery store on the way to the complex, and it wouldn't be far to walk.

He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys from the counter and headed towards the door. He slipped his shoes that had been lying forgotten against the wall, turning the doorknob and pulling it open before stepping out of his apartment. He hastily stuffed his wallet into his back pocket with one hand as he pulled the door closed and began the task of locking up. He chuckled to himself as he inserted the key. His father would really come down to Sendai and drag his ass back home if he let his apartment get broken into within the first twenty-four hours of his stay.

Ichigo hadn't heard anyone coming up the stairs as he went about his duties, but he heard the sharp intake of breath when they reached the landing to his floor. Inwardly, he groaned. His hair had always caused some looks, and he jumped to the conclusion that this person that had stumbled upon his was already judging what he had been given naturally. Ichigo had already heard some of the mumbles on the plane and in the airport, and he was sure it would just continue from here on out. He furrowed his brow and kept his eyes on the door, pretending to be so engrossed in locking up that he hadn't noticed the stranger's reaction.

But then the person spoke. Not only did she speak, but it was his _name_ that was said in that soft voice full of disbelief.

"Ichigo?"

His gaze lifted, face drawn in confusion and surprise as he turned to meet the person that had called him by name. He hadn't been prepared for what he found.

She was wearing more casual clothing than he remembered, thought the tee shirt and shorts looked much more comfortable. Her bright orange hair that was so similar in color to his was thrown up in a ponytail, falling in some places to frame her feminine features. She clutched her bag in front of her, keys in hand that mirrored the set he had, indication she lived in the same complex, maybe even the same floor. Her eyes were just as expressive as they had been as in his nightmares after his rescue, watching him from the bridge as he sunk beneath the water. She stared at him in shock, her face blanching in surprise as she paused on the landing, coming to a stop a mere three feet away.

_Holy shit._

Ichigo felt his breath come back with force. As he exhaled a name slipped out, one that he had kept pushed from his mind for years but never truly forgot.

"Orihime."

**This one is a much shorter, but I really wanted to stop here before I dove into the next update (Oh, I hope that one is up sooner. My guilt for keeping you guys waiting is killing me :/). Hope you all enjoyed it, regardless. Thanks again for all the reviews so far!**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


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